The Silver Trio: Within the Shadows
by Caligator
Summary: In this unknown length of series, the events in 4 of the books are observed by the points of view of the Silver Trio.  Neville, Luna, Ginny.
1. The Silver Trio: Beginnings

This is my first attempt at a fan fiction so if it sucks... my bad. So this is how it's gonna go.

Firstly, the outline. Basically, it's the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth books from a Neville Longbottom's point of view. I'm not going to have any specific condensed amount, (meaning 3 chapters per chapter or something like that) I 'll just do what I feel is enough.

Next, some little facts:

1. I don't mind criticism but "criticism for

criticism's sake must be discouraged."

If I get a fact wrong, please tell me. This rarely happens.

3. I'll try to post new stuff annually, but

this will get more frequent if I get a good response.

I get distracted easily, so if I say I will post _,

it might come a day late.

My inspiration for writing this loverly (yep loverly) spin-off is simply this: one of my best friends gets this amazing joy from writing on this site and I figure, "Harry Potter gave me that joy when it was all new (it still gives me that joy but it's never the same, ya' know?) so maybe if I combine them, it'll create an all new joy!" And thus, Neville was given his place in my brain where he'll stay until I write him down.

Okay, enough of my ranting. Questions? Oh wait, one of my own. Would you, the readers, prefer a third person (like in the real Harry Potter) or a first person (as in the disgusting Twilight)?

PS (sorry I though I was done with the rambling) I don't _hate _the theory of Twilight it was a good idea but Stephanie has terrible writing style. Okay I'm done. Answer my question, ask your own... and see you when this gets started.


	2. The Silver Trio: Neville

-And here we begin. First let me say that I'm glad I got any response to this. Second I changed the story name because "Silver Trio" was just too common. Secondly, I've decided upon a third person because it's just less confusing if I switch the POV. Alright here we go."

*****I do NOT own Harry Potter or any of it's characters, settings, etc.*****

"Neville, honey! Would you come and get this box of teabags? I can't find my wand!"

"Yes, Gram! Be down in a minute!" Neville was sure he wasn't really needed by his grandmother, as she had a 'nice young gentleman' from the Ministry over for whatever reason. But, rather than suffer her wrath later for not meeting the man who could provide him a life after Hogwarts, he trooped downstairs to the sadly decaying kitchen.

"Where is it, Gram?" Neville sighed after not finding it where it usually sat behind the breadbox.

"Oh never mind that, dear," she said, waving her hand impatiently. "Come over here and meet Mr. Dawlish. He's an Auror from the Ministry." Neville peeked over his grandmother's' faded turquoise armchair to reveal a cup of tea already half-empty in her quivering fingers.

He shook Mr. Dawlish's hand, who was sitting in the adjacent to his grandmother's. His grandmother had began babbling again about Neville's inadequate final grades. The sofa crinkled when he slumped onto it, because of it's plastic coverings.

As they moved into his approaching O.W.L. And his need for improvement, Neville became very interested in his left hand.

"Just another week," he murmured. Neville was dreaming about returning to Hogwarts, where he had been attending for two years. He often wondered just how lucky he was to even get in! As, he hadn't shown any magical prowess until his great-uncle Algie dropped him out a window.

Shortly after this experience, he received his toad, Trevor, whom was snoozing in his upstairs bedroom. As another gift from his family, Neville also inherited his own father's wand, which had been useless until then. His father and mother, both, had been checked into 's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and, unless they began to improve, they would be there for life. Neville visited them a normal amount, but as they couldn't recognize their own son, it depressed him.

"Wow! Would you look at that? It's ten already! I'm sorry, Neville, Augusta, but I must be taking my leave," the strong-jawed Mr. Dawlish exclaimed, bouncing boyishly from his seat and shaking Neville's hand vigorously. He grasped Neville's grandmother's in both of his, claiming he'd come to visit again soon.

"Now you'd better get to bed, we have to get up early to get the goods at Diagon Alley." Neville nodded soberly. "Big day tomorrow, Neville, big day!" She called at his back as he trudged upstairs.

-What did you think guys? I think it's a nice piece of work, personally. Yeah, it's short and nothings really happened yet and I know you guys know all this stuff about Harry Potter but, I digress. And reminder, I'm not British. So there's that little snag. Questions? Reviews? Suggestions? And I see you next time!-


	3. The Silver Trio: Neville 2

-Tell your Harry Potter crazed friends people! I'm just yanking your wand, no peer pressure. But for seriously, if you like it, you should really spread the word. There was something I needed to ask you... I'll remember by the end I'm sure.-

*****Remember from last time, I don't own anything in this piece, except Neville's thoughts, which are few.*****

Neville sprung up from his bed, tangled in a mess of cold-sweat-spotted sheets. He had just had a scarily vivid dream about emerging on Platform 9 ¾ for the school year, dressed in nothing but a pair of bright pink boxer-shorts. He sighed and slouched, leaning back on his elbows. The ticking clock on the wall informed him that it was two in the morning. He re-plumped his pillows and lay back down, his thoughts instead upon the upcoming year of Herbology, his by-far favorite subject.

"Up, up, Neville!" He sat up and rubbed his eyes with his fists. He stripped out of his blue-striped pajamas and put on his Muggle clothes, which he actually liked to wear during break. When Neville was decent he went downstairs and made himself a bowl of cereal. Halfway through his bowl of Frosties, his grandmother emerged from her first-floor bedroom dressed in her iconic pearl-green dress accessorized with her great red handbag and vulture-topped hat.

"Finish your breakfast and we'll go."

"Yes, ma'am." When Neville slurped his last droopy flake and washed his bowl, his grandmother went out to the street and stuck out her left hand, as both her and Neville were left-handed. A purple bus that was three-levels tall, clearly stabled by magic, screeched to a halt before the pair.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand, step on board, and we can take you -"

"I think we know how to contact you, seeing as we just have." Clutching her hat, Neville's grandmother stepped aboard the bus, pushing past the pimply Stan Shunpike. Stan popped his lips and gave Neville a stern look.

"Come on, then, come on. 'Aven't got all day, 'ave we?" Neville straightened his shirt and hair and stumbled in after her. He had barely seated himself in a bright green armchair when the bus lurched forward, causing all the chairs to slide to the front of the bus.

"London!" Ernie, the driver, called from the front a few minutes later.

"Eleven sickles, please." Neville stepped out while his grandmother paid the conductor.

BANG. Neville heard the bus take off again behind him, and his grandmother wobbled to his side. Together they walked into the Leaky Cauldron, waving at those they knew and even a hag sitting in the corner. Aided by his grandmother, the arch in the back wall was opened, as Neville never remembered the pattern. Diagon Alley spread out before them. First they visited Gringott's, where they withdrew enough to supply Neville for the school year.

"Run along and get your new robes, dear. They've been too short for ages." On his way to Madam Malkin's, he saw a group of mostly boys crowded around a store window at Quality Quidditch Supplies. He'd never been very interested in the sport, but he still figured he'd see what it was about, as he already stuck out enough not to know what was new with Quidditch. Not to mention, sticking out was rather hard when you were in the same school, grade, house, and gender as _the _Harry Potter.

After getting fitted, Madam Malkin told him to return in about an hour for his new robes. Neville trudged over to Flourish and Blotts for this year's books.

"Booklist, son?" Neville searched his pockets, but he couldn't find the parchment that told him what books he'd need for the year. And of course he didn't remember what any of them were.

"Er... I seem to have mislaid it," mumbled sheepishly.

"Well run along and find it," the shop owner told him sternly, apparently fussed because Neville was wasting his time. He emerged from the bookstore, scratching his head nonchalantly to find his grandmother.

"Where's your books Neville?"

"I've, erm, misplaced my booklist Gram." His grandmother got heated up into a good telling-off. Neville did his best to tune out the 6 minute scolding. He waved at Harry, who looked oddly distracted, somewhat guilty about something. Neville wondered why he was here but not laden down with books as Neville would've been. He also spotted Seamus and Dean, two other boys from his grade.

When his grandmother wrapped up her speech, the two returned into the store. His grandmother pulled out an extra booklist from her handbag.

"I'm fed up with these idiotic books!" The owner promulgated as he pulled on some thick gloves. The proprietor cut through the small crowd filling his shop to a medium-sized animal cage. Within the cage were several books that were ripped each other apart at the seams. He withdrew one that was growling at another menacingly from a corner, it snapped at his fingers and bit him, his paper like teeth.

The man wrapped the animal-like book in a length of rope as to stop it from trying to bite his dactyls, advised Neville not to release it until classes started, and went into the back of the store to obtain the rest of his books.

Neville ended his day-long trip with filling his Potions supply, which he wasn't looking forward to, being Potions was his least favorite class. Perhaps Snape would be easier on him if he had an overstock of beetles' eyes.

-A longer chapter! Are you not mad at me anymore? I crave your comments! Give them to me or I shall set the dementors on you!-


End file.
